


let's jump ahead to the moment of epiphany

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [146]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, nothing about this is happy i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23045401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: Newt has an odd experience while Drifting
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [146]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Kudos: 20





	let's jump ahead to the moment of epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> so. i went to go fill the newest prompt......except i missread it as "pru" instead of "post-pru" and wound up writing 400 words before i realised my mistake. anyway i decided i'd keep it (as its own thing lol) and finished it up. anyway nothing about this is happy and it's 100% pru compliant

He's _expecting_ the pain; of course he is. He's done this a hundred or more times before, of _course_ he expects the pain. Still, he's never prepared for it; not properly; never prepared for that moment of all-encompassing pain as he Drifts with an incompatible, alien mind, never drowned out in time by the rush of endorphins They release.

He jolts, for a moment; fingers tightening on the remote before his fingers loosen and it clatters to the floor.

The sterile, lifeless room around him fades to blue as he floats in the Drift.

He expects the Drift; expects the blue, electric, jarring; of course he does.

What he doesn't expect is to see his own face staring back at him.

Or—not his own face, _exactly._ It _is_ him, yeah, but... _younger._ There's some scruffiness to him—he looks like he hasn't shaven or showered in a few days, and he's practically radiating an unhinged vibe.

Unable to help himself, he murmurs, soundlessly, " _Newt?_ "

The other's gaze shifts to him; slower than a snail, and he says, suddenly, "Wh—who are you?" His voice is trembling; jittery, like a bad phone connection. "I pressed the button and initiated the neural handshake with the brain, and then—I...are you a hallucination?"

 _God, I wish,_ Newt almost says; because that would make this all so much _easier;_ because it would be so, so much less painful than the _truth._

He's going to have to say _something;_ though _what,_ he doesn't know. He _could_ say nothing—this is probably just an image conjured up by his mind, albeit a _fucking painful_ one, but—

Newt's rambling, he realises; his voice is jittery still, but he's _excited._ "Dude," he says, "you look _loaded_ —d'you think I'll be loaded, too? When I get out of this, I mean. I'll be a rockstar when I do—save the world, I mean, so I _should_ be loaded, yeah?"

Newt opens his mouth; licks his lips. "Sure," he manages, after a moment; flatly, "you will."

 _Rich,_ he means, _you'll be filthy, filthy rich,_ but Newt grins and says, "Aw _hell_ yeah, I'm gonna be a _rockstar!_ Suck it, Hermann!"

Newt swallows; thickly. "Yeah," he says; the words hollow. "Yeah." He shakes his head; laughs, softly, and then: "maybe...thank him first, though." God; he knows this is all just in his mind and Newt _won't_ because he never _did,_ but he—he tries to believe, for a moment, in a world where that _does_ happen; where he _does_ thank Hermann, finally, for... _everything._

Predictably, he scoffs. "Yeah, not happening," he says, lips quirked half-violently.

Newt bites back a sigh. It wasn't going to change anything anyway; even if he wishes that it could, wishes so damn _hard_ that it could. Where would he be now, had he done that? Probably not spasming in a shitty, over-priced armchair in a shitty, over-priced penthouse apartment thousands of miles from Hermann.

The other's talking still; but there's no sound, not anymore; and he's fading.

Newt smiles bitterly. The illusion of the ability to change things never lasts long.

After everything, it comes down to this: it's still him, and that's only ever destined to go one way.

* * *

He wakes up with a jolt; the burn of the Drift in the back of his throat. His head _aches_ and he feels like he's aged a thousand years.

Someone's holding him, he realises; tight, fingers digging into his shirt— _fear,_ that's what it is. He cranes his neck to get a better look.

Hermann; of _course_ it is; his face hazed with panic, and he's saying Newt's name, over and over and over—not _Newton,_ no; he's saying _Newt._ Begging for him to wake up, to _say_ something, to be _alive._

Newt croaks a soft laugh. "Di'n'know you cared," he manages; the words painful to get out.

Hermann's gaze snaps to his. " _Newt,_ " he says; relief. "Thank God—you're _alright._ "

"Hh. Depends on what...you mean by 'alright'," Newt replies. He could probably let go of Hermann, now, but he doesn't _want_ to, really; 's nice to be here, in Hermann's arms, even if he feels _awful._

The other gives a harsh laugh. "Damn you," he says, but a soft smile is breaking, tentative, across his face. "God. I—I was so _worried,_ Newton."

"'m alright," Newt reassures. "Everything's... _fine,_ dude, I p— _promise._ "

Hermann swallows; the motion easily trackable at this distance, and says, "I'm glad. Let's, ah, get you off the floor, shall we?"

Newt nods; not quite sure how to string the words together, and lets Hermann help him up off of the ground and into a chair; takes the glass of water he offers, gulping it greedily, though a good half of it he spills on himself, fingers shaky.

* * *

— _he's falling, falling, falling, he's failed, he's let them in, he's not in control, this will happen it has happened there's no stopping it_ —

He wakes with a gasp; Hermann's propped up over him, looking worried, and Newt realises why a second later: he's been screaming in his sleep.

"I'm—I'm fine," he croaks, scrunching his eyes shut, and Hermann reaches out, tentative, a hand on his shoulder. Newt appreciates the action—it chases away some of the cold. "Just a—a nightmare."

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Hermann asks; quiet; not a demand, never a demand.

Newt laughs; hoarsely. "I don't remember it, even," he says, and smiles wanly. "It's probably just...Anteverse nightmares, or something. It's nothing."

Hermann frowns at him, but doesn't push it. "Alright," he says, and settles back down. "You ought to get back to sleep, then."

"Yeah, I probably should," Newt says. "No point in worrying about nightmares—they're not real."

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
